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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 9:17:07 GMT -8
"I am Florence Novel." Was the Crowgazer's rather stilted introduction as she filed into the sanitarium lobby once more, back to the point she had begun at. She half-expected that Doctor Cross to emerge from any corner.
"I will notify the desk man." She informed them dutifully before striding off to to just that,
Again, she approached the front desk and spoke, "Hello."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 9:38:20 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
"Ahuh... " He muttered as he walked into the Sanitarium proper, his eyes flicking to Roderick, "... Thanks f'the help, chummer... Now, go shine your sword on something pretty, eh?" He chuckled as he hefted the body on his shoulder to a more comfortable position, before following Florence into the Sanitarium.
Arnulf sighed, furrowing his brows, his eyes were focused solely on the back of the Doctor's head as he trudged forward and took a soldierly position a meter or so behind.
"So'z, Florence... Why're you here?" He asked with a persistent, skeptical, tone through slightly labored breaths.
//
/Desk-man/
Lithe, and gaunt in all regards; a man with loose fitting blue robes and a white apron lacking signature blood stains, sat at the desk now. He idly fiddled with a quill as the small group of person's entered; he kept toying with the strands of feather on the quill before sighing and dipping the tip of it into the nearby inkpot.
"Alright, who and who and who; then how, and then what, and then leave." He spoke disintrigued, as he wrote studiously into a ledger...
//
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 22, 2017 10:04:34 GMT -8
"I can hardly abandon a quest half way through. I'll stay a while longer." Roderick says, trying to subtly stretch out his crippled knee.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 10:21:59 GMT -8
"I am here to deliver this man to the sanitarium," Florence answered in her brief-as-ever tone, leaning into the front desk in her signature way of violating the personal space of the other.
"Hello," She said again, as if he was not present for what she had answered to Arnulf, "I have come to deliver this man to this sanitarium."
She motioned a gloved hand to Arnulf behind her and nodded.
"He has suffered a laceration to his left subclavian vein, which I have ligated, but he still requires evaluation and further care in this sanitary environment."
---
Tilly looked about at that dingy office and smoothed her coat lapels one-handedly, letting the other strained one hang limp in a coat pocket by her hip. She gave a glance around and stepped to the bed to neatly smooth out the covers.
She tsked and shook her head. Poor wayward sprout.
She reached through her pocket and withdrew a small, palm-sized dagger, obviously crafted to be thrown. A small, steel loop was at the pommel nut for tricks or feats, or to be held on a keyring.
The robber set it neatly on the end table before she turned and left the room.
~~~
Her muddy bootheels clicked down the hall from where she came, no longer needing a nun's direction on making her way through the snaking corridors of the building. She was uneasy, herself, with eyes that flitted about the halls, ever watchful for that same, wild, bearman. In a fleeting glance of optimism, she hoped that the guards had already managed to apprehend the fellow.
Down the hall, her heart seized up when she saw a figure dart past a corner-- then a sigh of relief came when she saw the telltale dreadlocks of Ariana. She had half a mind to pursue and question the arbalest, but... she hadn't the time anymore to run and chase everyone that ran. Everyone had her own business, after all.
She gave three raps on the bathhouse door and tried the handle with a "S'Tilly coming in."
The door bonked loudly against the bench that had been set askew before she welcomed herself into the domain.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 10:39:15 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
He sported a signature mercantile grin as he hefted the man again; as though he were some sportsome prize from a hunt,
"'Ello!" He greeted with a wave.
//
/The Desk-Man/
"R-right... Sub... clavian..." He mumbled as he wrote, then looked to either and rose a thinly arched brow.
"... Names, for the who? Each of you and your... patient." He asked, shifting in his chair as he waited patiently. His desk was much more tidy than the last woman who'd sat here, though there was apparant prying on the corners of books and papers there, some pens had broken tips.
The man didn't seem too swayed by the Doctor's beak as he set his nose back to the ledger.
Though, he did reach out and ring a hand-bell once, twice, a total of four times; the sound was a high and light ring, that echoed through the halls and the distant sounds of motion echoed thru the cobblestones.
//
/Blood/
Even with the announcement, he looked up with a shock; he was gingerly cupping water with a shaky hand and letting it run down his side and thru the now.. slightly, less muddied wound. He still clutched a veritable bouqet of small sharp leaves and white-gold thumb-sized blossoms in one hand. All mushed together, it almost resembled a paste already despite it's still very intact nature.
His startle had him stand up from the crate with slightly unsteady legs, though, he squinted at Tilly; a bit skeptical of her, before he sighed, nodding.
"Ah, good... your friend's a bit of a looney, you know that?" He asked, shaking his head as he resided to simply applying pressure to the wound as he sat atop the crate. Relaxing considerably,
"Could you... help me? Clean the wound, dress it..." He raised the clutch of herbs, "... and bandage it?" He asked, raising a brow as he nodded to a nearby bench, a varying stack of nettle towels set upon it.
"And tell me too... You alright? Courcy, as well..." He concluded in a rather hasty manner, it seemed his desperation to know just what happened escalated with every passing mention as his eyes locked on Tilly.
//
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 11:08:16 GMT -8
"Florence Novel," Florence said again, motioning her hand to name each of the members of the accompanying party, though... the names of all but one of the others was still unknown to her.
"Arnulf, and... hm." She turned her beaked head to look over her shoulder, "I do not know the name of the patient. He lost consciousness before I could ask him."
---
"A fair bit." Tilly drew a chipped smile and clicked the door closed gently behind her, bringing the great oaken thing back into its set place in its doorframe with the push of her heel.
"Sorry for stabbing you." She flicked the wide, battered brim of her hat and moved to close the distance between herself and the ex-noble's trusty sitting-crate. "Glad to see it wasn't too bad, and that you've haven't bled out or anything of the sort." She gave a shrug. "But where in the world is your pet doctor when you need her, hm? You didn't leave the poor bird in the Weald, did you?"
She clapped her hands together to free up a plume of dried mud and dust, in a half-hearted effort to keep her hands cleanly and sanitary, but she had half a mind to dis-glove to prevent them from going soggy from the flower-water.
"I'm quite alright, shoulder's been aching, but it's not the worst." Tilly paused a moment to choose her next words carefully as she set the towels aside, "You remember how Courcy hated the church, and all the like? Seems she went and... tried to murder one of the churchfolk. You remember Grace, don't you?"
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 11:45:10 GMT -8
/The Desk-Man/
He nodded as he wrote, looking over his right shoulder to the hallway behind it, where a squad of nurses, roughly four, came walking out in a brisk manner. Robes fluttering at their heels as they looked about, the Desk-Man pointed to Arnulf, then the man on his shoulder.
"Take the man to the commons hall, just need to get his wounds checked and properly treated... Minor laceration along the left subclavian vein." He elaborated, the Nurses nodded and looked to Arnulf expectantly as they neared.
He looked to Florence expectantly, "Is there... anything else?" He asked, as he started to take a seat back in his chair.
//
/Arnulf/
He cleared his throat and nodded, as he listened, "Oh, yes... yeah, here..." He mumbled as he shifted the man's body, ever careful of the wound on the man's shoulder before handing him off to the Nurses, who held the man in their arms, horizontally and headed off dutifully.
Arnulf scratched at the back of his ratty hair and skewed his lips in thought, shaking his head; he looked to Roderick then to the door, before clearing his throat. His seemed about to speak to Florence, in the way he turned on his heel and opened his mouth, though he waited a moment; noting the current discussion between the Doc and the Desker.
//
/Blood/
"I sent your lovely friend out to fetch her..." He childishly mused as he eyed her gloves, worried now about how many corpses they'd touched. He shuddered, and looked back into his crate, eyeing the smaller, finer boxes within.
"... Count us even, then: you stab me for being a selfish prick out on the road." He apologized earnestly, albeit, in a backwards manner.
He reached behind himself with his free hand and fisked about the crate before procuring a circular box with curious hieroglyphs carved unto it with a wren in flight above a river going down the center of the circle.
He set it in his lap and twisted open the lid, setting aside the ornate piece to reveal several lumps of fist sized whitish lumps that looked like soft opals.
He plucked one of these out and held it out to her, "From Constantinople, imported from the River Nile... It'll clean your hands if you rinse it with water, it bubbles and... well, wash them off, your hands will be clean." He explained, "Or so it did when I bought it." He shrugged, holding out the bar of soap.
"I do remember though, Courcy... And Grace. Tried to..? So she didn't actually?" Blood asked, furrowing his brow.
//
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 12:00:21 GMT -8
"Seems like a fair trade, though you ought to know I don't plan on stabbing you every time you go off like that," Tilly gave an earnest smile as he shuffled through the box, and withdrew the soft soap from within.
She set about unknotting the mud-caked laces at the top of her gloves, made for fastening the article tight to her arm; tight sleeves made rifling through a coffin exponentially easier, with nothing to catch onto sharp or pointy edges.
Tilly peeled the gloves away one after the other, and there were clear lines of dirt and mud on the base of her fingers as to where the gloves ended and the skin began. Her fingers were filthy.
She rolled up her sleeves and was quite happy to take the soap from him. "A guard and some woman intercepted them. Courcy got clonked on the head before I could trot on in there. Seems there's been issues with the abbey's security lately."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 12:09:41 GMT -8
/Blood/
"Considering that bear-man managed to trundle right up the damn center of town..." He scoffed and rolled his eyes, though they rested on the door on the faraway wall of the bath house with a tinge of paranoia,
"... I'm inclined to agree." He sighed, his eyes drifted to Tilly's almost mortifying amount of grime and mud and no doubt blood caked about her attire and fingers, he couldn't help but chuckle; he was by far in no position to rightly pass judgement on her cleanliness, as he glanced at his own wet but still dirt crusted fingers.
"Get under your nails too, between your fingers... Dirt likes to rest in there." He idly tutored as he thought on her words... Poor Courcy, he supposed. Though, he idly pieced together some level of plot and story to Fenrik and Courcy's apparent escapade in assaulting the people of this... meager Sanctuary.
"Shame, about Courcy. What'll happen to her..?" He realized, with growing tension, that perhaps truly mortifying tasks might be unfolding just beyond the door. "... Fenrik, did you see him..? Do you think Courcy intended for us to..." He let the rest go unspoken, as his eyes seemed to dance with all manner of potential plots and thoughts, worry and betrayal chief among them.
//
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 12:48:49 GMT -8
Tilly laid the gloves down flat on the nearby crate, one set on top of its grimy brother. She turned the soap over in her hands, pleasantly, and made to go wander on near the bucket at his side.
"Some fancy soaps you've got here." She took a knee beside the bucket and looked up at Blood, "How pricey were these ones?"
She lathered her hands and grinned childishly at the lather, flexing and unflexing her fingers to create small bubbles between them before bringing them together to scrub the dirt out.
"I didn't see Fenrik since, but I did let the guard there know he was connected to Courcy and all." She brought her hands up, cupping the water she held whimsically before letting it splash back down into the bucket.
She gave a sigh and stuck one dirt-caked fingernail beneath the other to dislodge the gunk, "I don't know, honestly. I tried to say that she'd gone mad and went beserk on the abbey, with her bear-man following, but... she was quite lucid when we came back, you know?"
Tilly shrugged. "I'm just hoping she doesn't get put on the block like Jacques did."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 12:58:01 GMT -8
/Blood/
He nodded, solemnly at the grim reminder of Jacques; Lavinia coming up respectively, but he shook the thought away.
"Yeah... Hopefully, she doesn't. I'll go and speak with the Heir after I get cleaned up." He acknowledged, waving a hand lazily in the air as he thought on his words. He smiled, awkwardly, from his higher position before he shifted and set himself back down on the floor, more or less at eye height with Tilly as she washed her hands.
"Hopefully that bear-man doesn't come back... Goes back into the Weald, or maybe heads out somewhere else. Some other damned wood where I won't have to look over my shoulder, what, four times now?" He guffawed, as he held pressure on his wound, he looked down at it and sighed clearing his throat.
"I'm getting a little woozy though..." He admitted under his breath, before he took another, deep one.
"Yes! Yes, the soaps they were... Very, expensive. It took thereabouts of... say... three, maybe four thousand gold in gems and the like... Last of my cloak's finery too." He chuckled, rubbing his thumb along the hem where the disks had once been.
"... Do you... still have the one I gave you? The gold disk on my cloak, I mean. Gave you one early on, as payment I believe." He asked with a queer and sudden tenderness, hopeful as well as he kept his eyes locked on Tilly's washing hands.
//
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 22, 2017 13:49:44 GMT -8
//Roderick//
"So how did you come by this poor sod, by chance? What was he doing outside the abbey?" Roderick asks as he looks the doctor over, trying to discern if she was trustworthy or perhaps some villain in disguise.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 14:28:23 GMT -8
"I've got it in my satchel," Tilly waggled an elbow, a patch of faded blue cloth that seemed to have been spared most of the abuse doled out to the rest of her jacket, at the bag by her hip. "Haven't gotten around to hocking it off, really. Why?"
She drew her hands, now pearly and soft from the soap-- which she had the mind to set neatly on the shelf of the bath beside her-- and wrung them out rather haphazardly over the bucket. She flung the excess droplets onto the flagstone and scooted closer to him, to inspect the wound.
"Why, wee lamb, you've shrugged off bullets, stabbings, falls, and a codger pouring acid to your face," She poked the flesh adjacent to the tear, "But this teeny tear makes you woozy?"
She squinted at it and idly made to pinch the two flaps of skin together, "S'but a catscratch. We can wash it out with some of these fancy soaps of yours and call it a day, yeah?"
---
Florence shook her beaked head,
"No, there is nothing else. Good day."
She stepped back away from the desk, pivoting on her feet to face Roderick and the half-departed Arnulf, "He screamed for help until someone arrived, but then I arrived." She nodded. "I was glad to, as it is good to practice, especially procedures as delicate as a vascular ligature."
"Before you leave," She pointed a finger to Arnulf, "I would like to purchase some... foodstuffs, yes."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 22, 2017 14:30:33 GMT -8
"I can tell you from experience that he sells fine meats, or at least his venison is of fine quality. Though I wonder, what was your business around the Abbey? Going to pray, by chance?" Roderick asks Florence, genuinely curious.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 14:31:06 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
"Ah, I was about t'ask you what brought yourself to the Hamlet... Aand if you've any... friends outside'o the estate." He shrugged, looking to Roderick and chuckling at the veritable white-knight, taking a step back and motioning to the meat-stick Florence still wielded,
"And, well... First one's free. See'in as you got the whole thing in'er hands, why don't you pluck one off yourself?" He offered, pulling his hands inward to clutch at the belt across his chest. He idly jerked his head at Roderick,
"Chummer here's right, s'good meat, might be a bit colder now but... Hunted it myself. Won't find anything fresher without mushrooms nd rot onnit." He chuckled, a bit more forced this time, as he looked to either Florence and Roderick.
//
/Blood/
"S'got sentimental value is all. Something that's awfully lacking these days." He chuckled halfheartedly as he waved away the words, though his eyes did train on the satchel, before he pulled back his hand to let the impromptu aide-tu-wound see to the predescribed tear.
"I wouldn't say shrugged off; you were there for each of those, you 'aught to have heard my mewling my lambly ass off about each one." he admitted shamelessly as he looked into his palm for the cinnamon sticks he was biting before, though remembered how he'd so uncouthly spat them out onto the floor a few moments before.
"I know you've a lot of personal belongings from corpses on you, but... well, think you could count that disk among the ones you won't pawn off?" He smirked as he shifted where he sat with a level of awkward discomfort...
//
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